Announcing Finding Dory - Webinar 3: Sailing safely through "orca territory"

"Finding Dory", is a social community of cruisers who plan to cross the Atlantic (East-West) next winter (2025-2026 season). It is "free-to-join" and "contribute-as-you-wish" group of yachties, bonded by one common goal: to cross the Atlantic safely. "Finding Dory" is organized in collaboration with Helena and Steve from "Noforeignland". You can read about the background, purpose and setup of this group, and planned free webinars in this post on Noforeignland - which will also guide you how to join this Whatsapp-based community.

So,... we are ready to kick off our third free webinar on August 26 at 20:00 Rome time, 18:00 GMT. This time we will tackle a common challenge many of us will face, as we are sailing from Northern Europe or from the Med towards the Canaries as we are preparing to cross the Atlantic:
We will all pass areas where in the past years, there have been multiple interactions between different orca pods and sailboats, in the the Bay of Biscay, on the West and South coasts of Spain and Portugal, and around the Gibraltar Straight.

Several of these interactions have resulted in significant damage to the yachts' rudder, rudder shaft and hulls. On some occasions this resulted in the yacht being disabled, and there have been occurences where the yacht sank.

Since a number of years, the "go-to" place for cruisers to get up-to-date information and guidance has been "orcas.pt", a citizen-funded and crowd-source initiative, sustained by the very community it serves: sailors, maritime enthusiasts, and concerned individuals who recognize the urgency of this situation. It is a free, volunteer-driven platform dedicated to providing real-time assistance and crucial information to help sailors navigate safely in orca activity areas.

"orcas.pt" is coordinated by Rui Alves. Rui not only maintains and updates the website, but he also coordinates several Telegram chat groups, assisting cruisers as they pass through "orca territory", all on a benevolent and volunteering basis. In some occasions, Rui also assisted cruisers who had sustained damage due to orca interactions.

Rui graciously volunteered to join us in our next webinar to introduce the "orcas.pt" platform and its chat channels. Based on his years-long experience in coordinating this community, he will also share the key "do's" and "don't's" in avoiding the orca hotspots, but also, what to do and what not to do, if - in the worst case scenario - you encounter an orca pod.

I have sailed through the orca hotspots several times in the past years, and personally, I found the "orcas.pt" information and community, SUPER helpful. Actually, last year, in the Bay of Biscay, we had an orca pod swimming towards our boat, dive under it, and - luckily - continued on their merry way without interacting with our boat. But I can tell you, we were sitting on the edge of our seats for a few minutes!

Our webinar will be held on “ZOOM” and consist of +- 60 minutes of presentation, followed by 30 minutes (or more if needed) of open Q-and-A/discussions/shared experiences amongst the participants.

Our webinars are free for all “Finding Dory” members. We will record the session and publish the link to the recording afterwards to all members of our community.

The instructions on how to join this webinar, are distributed to "Finding Dory" members only, rather than widely distributing the link via social media, mainly to avoid spammers to join in, and disturb our webinar.

So, if you want to join in for the webinars, first join the "Finding Dory" community, and via our Whatsapp group, we will send you details on how to join each webinar. Instructions on how to join the growing "Finding Dory" flotilla on Whatsapp, you can find in this Noforeignland blogpost.

About Rui:

My name is Rui Alves, and I love sailing since I was a young kid. I am the creator of orcas.pt, a project born from a deep personal concern: Observing the rising number of interactions between orcas and sailing vessels along the coasts of Portugal and Spain, I felt compelled to take action, not just for the safety of sailors, but also for the well-being of Iberian orcas.

About Peter:

I will be the moderator for this webinar, as part of my role as "house keeper" for the "Finding Dory" flotilla community. I grew up on the coast of the Northsea, and spent most of my childhood holidays on the water. My mum says I don't have blood but rather have "salt water" running through my veins. :-) As part of my pro-bono work, giving back to the sailing community, I train "newbies to yacht sailing", and mentor more experienced sailors who are new boat-owners or first-time open ocean crossers.

Top picture courtesy of orcas.pt.

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"Pan-Pan" in the middle of the Atlantic

Date: January 26, 2025.
Our position: Halfway between Cape Verde and Grenada, mid Atlantic

We are crossing the Atlantic on a 46ft monohull sailboat.
This is my second crossing this season, and I'm on a final sprint: Over the past 5 months, I had done (at that point) 9,000 nautical miles (or +- 17,000 km) of open ocean passages. And with (only) 1,000 miles to go before we reach Grenada in the Caribbean, I am really looking forward to be on "terra firma" for a while.

We are crossing the Atlantic in a flotilla of about 20 boats, called the Vikings Explorers. We left Las Palmas in the Canaries early January, spent a week together in Mindelo-Cape Verde, after which the whole fleet left for our next and final stop: the Spice Island of Grenada, in the Caribbean. Yay!

As most of the boats in our flotilla have a Starlink internet connection, we all chat regularly on our "Vikings" whatsapp group, exchanging pleasantries, pictures from life aboard, weather/sea state reports, and occasional reports of issues on our boats.

On January 26th, "S", skipper on one of our flotilla boats reported on our Whatsapp group he received a "strange" chat message on the Noforeignland app, from "N", the skipper of sailing vessel "D". Onboard "D" was a young Turkish couple with two kids onboard, who had met up with "S" in Morocco, several months ago. The sailing yacht "D" was not part of our flotilla, but were crossing the Atlantic by themselves, and got into some trouble, about 700 miles off Barbados.

The chat message "S" received was something like this:

"Dear S, we met in Morocco some months ago, and via Noforeignland, we can see you are not very far from us, crossing the Atlantic too. Two days ago, we started to have a problem on our boat. Two of our sidestays (Ed: the steel cables holding up the mast), snapped and our mast started to move a lot. We took down the sails, and we are now motoring. But we have only limited fuel on board. We are not sure how to secure the mast. For the past two days, we called a "pan-pan" on VHF radio, but we had no response. We are not experienced ocean sailors, and we need help. Our position is xxx yyy, our Whatsapp telephone number is xxxxx".

So "S", part of our flotilla, forwarded the summary of the message on our flotilla Whatsapp group, and this is how several of us got involved.

A year earlier, crossing the Atlantic in the ARC+ flotilla, we witnessed how "Hilma" (in the picture above), one of our fellow ARC+ transat crossers, had lost their mast due to a structural failure, three days out of Mindelo. At that time, several other boats from our ARC+ flotilla came to their rescue, transfering jerry-cans of extra fuel, so Hilma could motor against the prevailing winds and waves, back to Mindelo. A different story, but cutting the story short, Hilma made it safely back to Mindelo, later on, motored from Mindelo back to the Canaries, had a major repair done, and sailed across the Atlantic a year later.
So, while I was not directly involved in that incident, I "witnessed" it via the ARC+ Whatsapp group, and saw how incidents like these were quite traumatic for the crew and potentially dangerous for all involved.

Back to our story of "N", the skipper of sailing vessel "D".

I contacted "N" via their whatsapp telephone number, which they had passed on "S". My first message was something like this:

Hi sailing vessel "D", I am Peter, aboard sailing vessel "M", part of the Vikings Explorers. You sent a message to "S" who is part of our flotilla, saying you have a problem and need help. Can you give me details of your problems, your current position and how we can assist?

Their response was almost immediate:
Hi Peter, I am "N", the skipper. I have my wife and two kids on board. Two days ago, we had a major problem on our boat, and two of our side stays snapped. We took the sails down, but the mast is moving a lot. Our position is xxx yyy, and we are motoring. But we fear the mast can come down at any time. We do not have enough fuel to motor to the Caribbean, still 700 miles away. We gave repeated pan-pans on the VHF radio for the past two days, but had no response. So I resorted to try and contact other boats via the Noforeignland chat function. We are not sure what to do, at this point. We are thinking of abandoning ship, and get into the liferaft. We are not sure who to contact for help, at this point

They sent me some pictures and video from their rigging issues too...

As abandoning a perfectly solid boat, with no imminent danger of sinking, even if the boat has issues with the mast, is never a good option, I decided to give "N" a phone call. During the call, it was clear they were not really experienced ocean sailors, were quite exhausted at this point, and close to panicing

I relayed my conversation with "N" to our flotilla. One boat in our flotilla was about one-two days sailing from "N", and offered to give them extra fuel. But, a year earlier, with Hilma, having witnessed how tricky it is to transfer jerrycans of fuel from one sailboat to another, I did not feel comfortable with that solution.

It seemed that the priority would be for "D" to secure their mast. Several boats in our flotilla, via our Whatsapp group, exchanged information on how to use extra ropes and the main halyard, to secure the mast, which -clearly- was the main priority. All of the information was passed on to "N", who followed our advice, and sent me pictures how they jury-rigged their mast, which seemed more stable now.

In the same flurry of messages, the "Vikings Explorers" coordinators, Carlota and Oliver, passed on the telephone numbers of the Barbados and Martinique MRCC (Sea rescue centres), who would be able to assist. I passed those on to "N".

I had another phone call with "N", and there was clearly less panic in his voice now. He asked advice how to get extra fuel so he could motor the remaining 700 miles to Barbados. He would need an extra 150 liters of fuel.

In came "J", the skipper of an other yacht in our flotilla. "J" and I had a Whatsapp call. "J" was very level-headed and pragmatic. We agreed that the best option was to call the Barbados MRCC (Sea rescue center), inform them of the pan-pan, and ask for their advice.

And that is exactly what "J" did. He relayed the situation, the GPS position of "N", and their Whatsapp contact number. So, from then on all seemed to be in the hands of the Barbados MRCC.

I had several chat exchanges with "N", informing him the Barbados MRCC would contact him, and propose a plan.

But meanwhile, the fuel situation on "N" got critical, and they shut down their engine, to save fuel, which also meant their batteries did not get recharged. To save battery power, they also switched off their VHF and Starlink. So,... a few hours later the Barbados MRCC informed us they had problems to contact "N", and made it difficult for them to coordinate any rescue actions needed.

What followed was a flash of exchanges between "N", "J" and me, in which I explained to "N" that the Barbados MRCC was trying to contact them, so they had to monitor their incoming calls on Starlink, to coordinate with the Barbados MRCC directly.

Which "N" did. Barbados MRCC said they were diverting a cargo ship to drop of extra fuel for them. Good news.

But.. in an effort to safe fuel and battery power, "N" decided to switch off his VHF and Starlink once again, and a few hours later, "J" was informed by the Barbados MRCC, that they had diverted a cargo ship to the last known position of "N", but the cargo ship had not been able to raise them on VHF or Starlink and could not see them on AIS neither, so the cargo vessel continued on its course. Bummer. A missed chance for "N"'s rescue

Eventually, I got hold of "N" again, several hours later, and advised him not to switch off VHF nor Starlink, as he had just missed one cargo vessel coming to his rescue. He could not miss the next chance of rescue. He agreed, and from then on, kept his communications tools powered up.

Several hours later, we got a message from "N" that Barbados MRCC contacted him, as they had diverted yet another cargo vessel to his location, to drop fuel.

Some hours later, we received another message from "N" that indeed a cargo vessel had met up with them, created a "lee", for them to come along side, and the cargo vessel had dropped several jerry cans of diesel, enough for them to continue motoring all the way to Barbados. He sent me some pictures as the cargo ship approached them, and of the jerrycans of extra fuel they had transferred to them.

We kept following "N" for the next days, up to the point they safely anchored in Barbados a week later, had their rigging problems resolved, and continued for a happy cruising season in the Caribbean..

Some lessons-learned out of all of this:

Don't panic. As long as your vessel is sound and floating, don't even think of stepping into a life raft. The generic advice is: "Don't step down into a liferaft. You will only need to abandon ship, if you need to step up into a liferaft" - hard as it may sound.

For any ocean crossing, have a list of emergency telephone numbers for the coastal MRCC stations covering your area.

Ensure you have long-range full-proof communications onboard (internet or telephone, Starlink or Iridium/InReach) to communicate via voice or Whatsapp

Ocean passages are very demanding on your vessel. Have a thorough standing rigging inspection done before you embark on any long distance crossing

Don't cross an ocean "alone". Link up with other fellow cruisers who are crossing around the same time. Link up with them, and create "a community" (and Whatsapp group) with them, so you can look after each other . If things go wrong, that community will help you.

With a thanks to all involved, especially the Barbados MRCC (who were super professional and effective) and the cargo vessel which came to "D"'s rescue.

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Don't just prepare the boat, but also prepare yourself for an ocean crossing

Guest post by Sue Sagar

Last winter, in the middle of the Atlantic, I found asking myself "why did I sign up for this?"... This led me to think deeply about how we spent so much time focusing on getting the boat ready to cross an ocean and very little time on preparing ourselves physically and mentally. And I published an Instagram post on this topic.

By now that simple Instagram post has over 2 million views: it is a "tongue in cheek", light-hearted look at how to prepare in your home before you even move on board: Things like, don’t walk around your house unless you have one hand to hold on to a wall or fixture at all times, even crawl sometimes; run hard into the corners of your benches until you have a bruise count of 5 or higher; get someone to slide your plates across the table as you try to put food on them (remember you can only do this one-handed!); set an alarm for every few hours overnight, and then get up and stare at numbers on a navigation screen for at least 3 hours during your shift; ...and by all means, don’t leave the house for 17 days, not for any reason... ;-)

Little did I know this Instagram post would hit a nerve with so many people, hence I wanted to put down my thoughts in this blogpost.

From the day we chose to join the Viking Explorers Rally and cross the Atlantic, our minds were constantly working on "our lists". We had lists for ‘what equipment to buy’, ‘what to fix’, ‘first aid and safety’, and the ‘provisioning lists’, all of which we worked through meticulously. I’m sure all past transatlantic crossers know what I am talking about. The lists seemed endless. Trying to guess what will break, and the correct spare parts required... How much food did we'd need, not only for the crossing, but anticipating the prices in the Caribbean and planning well ahead... It all took a lot of thought. And a lot of time...

What I didn’t anticipate was the mental and physical difficulty I would experience during the crossing. A crew member on another vessel in our Viking Explorers fotilla, who had crossed the Atlantic East-West five times before, said somewhere along the trip that our crossing was one of the most uncomfortable he had ever done.... And that counts for something...

Please know that I am not trying to scare you here. In fact, I was never scared. "Anxious" yes, anxious of what might break, but never did I fear for my life. I just think that if I had taken the time to think more about how *I* would mentally and physically respond, I might have taken the time to stop and enjoy these moments, during the crossing, more and differently.

A fellow sailor and I gave each other a teary hug as we were about to set off to Grenada from Mindelo in Cape Verde. I said to her, "ít’s ok, we’ve got this” but little did I know what "this" was! Our crossing was predicted to have consistent wind but with some cross swell at short intervals.

Not being much of a sailor, I really didn’t know what this meant, but the reality was that rather than a big gentle following sea, we also had side waves which slapped against the hull, pushing the boat in a strange rocking motion. Yes, we were on a catamaran, hence the hull slapping, but fellow monohull owners will tell you that the motion made their lifes difficult too. They were sleeping wedged under tables on the floor, and catching things which came flying out every time they opened the cupboards.

If you are on a catamaran and haven’t experienced big seas for a sustained period of time, as I hadn’t, be prepared for the hull noise. It’s not all the time, but when it hits, it is like someone is hitting the hull with a sledge hammer. The noise is incredible. They say the boat can cope with more than we can, and in my case this was soooo true. Youtube videos really don’t show this reality, or at least I hadn’t heard the actual noise nor felt it, so it was quite a shock. This, along with the noise of the water rushing along the hulls and, in my case the autopilot constantly running, behind my bed, was overwhelming at times.

Then there is the constant movement. Yes, I know we all live on a boat and it is always moving, but on our crossing, it was so relentless. You couldn’t take one step without holding on, let alone cook, make coffee, shower and sleep! I anticipated there would be calm days, where we could swim in 5000m of water, relax and actually hope for more wind. Just like on the Youtube videos I watched before the crossing! But this wasn’t the case for us.

I’m not saying that I expected it to be all smooth sailing, but there was no reprieve. I had planned to bake, do daily stretches, keep the crew active with yoga, play games and puzzles etc, but for me, it was a struggle even just to get from the cabin to the galley. None of what I had planned to do during the crossing, actually happened, and this was so disappointing to me.

Even with all the seasick remedies in the world, I still struggled with nausea. I was never physically sick but it was a continuous battle. --Yes, at this point, you might ask what I was even doing out there!-- During our crossing some fellow die-hard sailors in our flotilla said they felt the same, so be prepared. And some of your crew might suffer too, and this adds another dimension: the challenge to have one (or more) fellow crew members down.

Overall I was overstimulated: the noise, the movement and the nausea, was something I could not control.

You should know that not all participants in our flotilla felt the same as me. But many did and we shared our thoughts constantly during the crossing, over a Whatsapp group. Indeed some embraced the challenge and fully enjoyed it. Hopefully this will be you. But if not, and if you find the Atlantic crossing challenging, like me, know that you are not a failure. That you haven’t let yourself or the crew down. You might, simply..., have found your limits and you are just.... challenged by them. Know, though, that this ordeal will end, eventually, and that these thoughts and feelings are normal!

My mind and body kept screaming at me to make it stop. Of course it couldn’t and it was hard for my husband and our crew to see me "not coping". Looking back, I wish I had been able to breath and appreciate this extra-ordinary thing I was doing. Even once we arrived in the Caribbean, it took me a long while to really appreciate the enormity, of crossing an ocean. I should have been kinder to myself, but "in the moment", I just felt so... inadequate. I wish that someone had sat me down and explained this to me before we left. Although I would have said that "I'll be fine, I’m tough", but I wish I had known that feeling this way, was normal. And that it was ok.... That would have been a huge comfort to me. Hence me sharing my experience with you now.

So what do I suggest? Before you depart, stop and think about how you will react when you are overstimulated, and feeling "on the edge". What tools do you have to help you relax and make sure you feel comfortable sharing how you are feeling with the crew.
Create a Whatsapp group with other transat-ers, who feel challenged too. We did this, in addition to the Viking Rally Whatsapp group, a smaller group which originally started as "Provisioning Tips and Tricks to share", but during the passage, it became "SSaSSY" ("Scared S**tless and Still Sailing Yachts"). We shared daily memes and quotes and supported each other on a more personal level.

I’m sure that you will each have your own personal experience. Please know that you are doing something amazing, and it is all worth it! And the Caribbean *is* wonderful! :-)

I’ll finish with a quote from Peter, the sailor in our group who was completing his 14th open ocean crossing. And I wish I had read this and reflected on it before the crossing... But I was too focused on other things (the darned "boat lists"!):
You are about to cross the Atlantic. It will be tough. You will lack sleep. The environment will be harsh. You might get sick or highly uncomfortable. You will at times come to thoughts of, ‘why did I decide to do this?'
But unless, in the midst of the hard times, you stop for a moment, look around you, and take in where you are and the extra-ordinary thing you are doing at that very moment, it will all be over before you know it. And when it is over, unless you stopped to enjoy the pain and hardship, for ever you will regret you did not enjoy that moment of "extra ordinary", and that you are doing this with the few other people in the world who are also privileged to share this adventure and experience this. So enjoy the moment, no matter how tough it is, enjoy the extra ordinary adventure you are embarking on.

And if you jump ship, make it a jump of joy, AFTER your transatlantic crossing, as we did, in Grenada!

Fair winds to all sailors about to cross the Atlantic in the next season...

Sue Sagar is a retired Marketing, Communications and Events Manager, who grew up in Melbourne-Australia, far away from the ocean. In 2021 her husband dragged her away from family and friends to pursue an adventure which centered around water! She kicked and screamed, and found herself on Bonnie Doon, a catamaran in Greece heading for the Atlantic! Still married and a few years later they find themselves in the Caribbean with the plan to sail across the Pacific to Australia in 2026. You can follow her (and Bonny Doon's) adventures via Instagram

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